


child’s play

by kiyoooooooomi (hoetaku97)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Childhood Friends, M/M, Practice Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27871682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoetaku97/pseuds/kiyoooooooomi
Summary: So maybe Kiyoomi lied by omission. Big deal.There is someone Kiyoomi wants to practice kissing for, but Atsumu doesn’t need to know that it’s him.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82





	child’s play

**Author's Note:**

> tw: bullying in the very beginning, start at “just stick with me” to avoid it

It begins when Kiyoomi is seven years old. He is a lonely child who struggles to make friends, watching the other children from a distance. He learns to fear people, gradually, then all at once on the day the school bullies decide to turn their wrath on him. It was bound to happen eventually. The bullies target outsiders, anyone who seems disinterested in their games and pranks. Kiyoomi is a shy and finicky child who never had much interest in kickball or bugs or dirt, which is why he frequently finds himself alone.  
The bullies come to him at his usual spot under the tree. They shove him down and kick dirt in his face while they call him names like weirdo and freak. A tiny boy with dark brown hair and a big mouth puts himself between them, loudly proclaiming that the bullies need to “get a life.” He hoists Kiyoomi up by the arm and brushes the dirt off his clothes, shyly asking Kiyoomi if he’s okay.  
Just stick with me. I won’t letcha get hurt, the boy had smiled a megawatt grin, missing a few teeth. I’m Atsumu, and I’m yer new best friend, so deal with it, ’kay?  
Kiyoomi could only nod in response.  
From that day forward, Atsumu is always by his side. He prattles on and on about anime, video games, and most often: volleyball. It is the end-all-be-all of Miya Atsumu’s world. Eventually, Kiyoomi comes to care about it the same way too.  
And so it goes, Kiyoomi spends his childhood getting dragged around by Miya Atsumu, who maintains a tight grip on his pinky at all times, gently tugging. Suddenly, Kiyoomi isn’t such a lonely child anymore. Atsumu spends every waking minute of the day with him as though they were attached at the hip. They share toys, play video games, and have sleepovers together. They ooh and ah over each other’s action figures and complain about their teachers in hushed tones in the late hours of the night. They play volleyball together behind Atsumu’s house, practicing receives while Osamu watches from the steps.  
As Kiyoomi grows older, it turns into Atsumu bringing disinfectant wipes and wiping down their desks. It turns into late night study sessions and Atsumu bringing lunch for both of them. They share notes and hang out in the kitchen while Osamu cooks and barks at them to get their lazy asses in gear and help him. Atsumu confides in Kiyoomi about his crushes, his fears, all the things he tucks away safely in the confines of his heart.  
Kiyoomi watches through the years as he becomes more wild and more beautiful. He watches as Osamu tells Atsumu they can’t walk the same path, watches as the boy who once loved with reckless abandon becomes guarded and in private moments, soft-spoken.  
It’s as if the Atsumu he knows is locked within a cell and Kiyoomi can’t bring himself to reach through the bars.  
Still, Atsumu stays by his side. He still chatters away endlessly about everything and nothing while Kiyoomi listens patiently, nodding along. He doesn’t hold Kiyoomi’s hand anymore. Some time around the age of fifteen, Atsumu cast aside hand holding along with other childish things, and Kiyoomi wished desperately that he hadn’t. Kiyoomi misses the tight grip around his pinky, constantly tugging him behind Atsumu, making sure he never strayed too far.  
Kiyoomi picks at a loose string on his uniform jacket, lost in thought. Atsumu is absent on this particular day, so Kiyoomi is eating with Motoya. Komori Motoya is, among many other things, a serial motor mouth. It is both a relief and a nuisance because Kiyoomi doesn’t have to fill the silence, but he wishes he could just enjoy the silence without either of them talking about pointless things to pass the time. Kiyoomi hates talking for talking’s sake, only speaking when he has something to say.  
“Kiyoomi, are you even listening?” Motoya nails him in the face with a grape.  
“Don’t be so childish, of course I’m listening.” Kiyoomi is not listening and hasn’t been for at least the last five minutes.  
“See, this is why Atsumu won’t ask you out. You’re a bad listener.”  
Kiyoomi feels the blood rush to his cheeks. “Shut up.”  
“And now you’re going to try practice kissing, of all things. You see all the ways this could backfire right?”  
Motoya’s comments are met with silence.  
“I see. So you have definitely not thought this through. Good to know.”  
“It’ll be fine,” Kiyoomi says, mostly to himself. “You need to mind your own business.”  
“I’ve come to realize that you don’t want to talk to me, you want to talk at me. You shouldn’t tell me about your hair-brained schemes if you don’t want to tell you they’re hair-brained.” Motoya heaves a deep sigh, his expression growing more serious. “Think long and hard about this, Kiyoomi. This isn’t something to be taken lightly, especially because you have serious feelings for Atsumu. I still think you should just tell him outright, but when have you ever listened to me?”  
“Maybe if you gave better advice, I’d listen more often.”  
Kiyoomi takes another grape to the face for his insolence.

After a long day, Kiyoomi is finally able to slip under the covers. His phone has five unread texts and a missed call from Atsumu. He doesn’t respond, drifting instead into soundless sleep, dreaming in shades of gold.

Sakusa Kiyoomi has never struggled to say what he means. He is honest to a fault, much to the chagrin of those around him. He has never had any trouble putting his thoughts into words until today, facing Atsumu and his own reckless decisions in front of his locker.  
“You want to what?” Atsumu chokes on his drink, coughing and sputtering.  
“Practice kissing.” Kiyoomi forces the words to come out inflectionless, even. He feels like he could combust.  
“With me?”  
“Obviously. Why else would I be asking you?” Kiyoomi pins him with a flat glare.  
“I’m stumped as to why ya’d ask anyone, actually. Since when are you interested in romance?”  
Kiyoomi feels his brow furrow in annoyance. “The more you talk, the more I regret asking.”  
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Atsumu’s smile turns devilish as he leans in closer, practically backing Kiyoomi into a corner. “Got anyone special in mind ya wanna impress?”  
Kiyoomi looks away, momentarily embarrassed as pink climbs high in his cheeks. “Yes.”  
Atsumu leans back, shock overcoming his smug expression. His amber eyes are as wide as saucers, his brows raised as if he hadn’t been expecting that answer, despite being the one to ask the question. “Oh.”  
“Are you going to help me or not?” Impatience fills Kiyoomi’s voice as he shifts his gaze back to Atsumu, tired of the embarrassing line of questioning.  
“Of course Omi-Omi, anything for a friend.” Atsumu shrugs good-naturedly, “If you were that desperate to kiss me, all ya had to do was say so.”  
“Whatever. Come over to my house after school.” It’s not a question.  
“Perfect.” Atsumu claps his hands together in satisfaction, signifying a done deal. “I’ll see ya then.”

The rest of the day passes achingly slow, Kiyoomi feeling like he’s dragging his feet through deep waters. A combination of anticipation and fear grip his chest, the butterflies in his stomach a combination of excitement and nerves. He can’t stop think about Atsumu’s mouth, his stupid, stupid mouth. His stupid smirks, the stupid way he bites his lip when he’s concentrating, the stupid, obnoxious laughter that slips through after he pulls of a particularly risky set on the court. He makes Kiyoomi’s heart race, makes him feel out of control, a feeling completely foreign to him. Kiyoomi, who maintains strict control of every aspect of his life, and Atsumu, the embodiment of all the forces beyond his control. Atsumu, who has been a constant presence in his life for as long as he can remember. Kiyoomi has spent most of his life chasing after Atsumu, never quite able to catch up. Atsumu, who gets on Kiyoomi’s nerves infinitely, and whose presence Kiyoomi finds himself missing when he’s not around.  
So maybe Kiyoomi lied by omission. Big deal.  
There is someone Kiyoomi wants to practice kissing for, but Atsumu doesn’t need to know that it’s him. Atsumu doesn’t need to know the way Kiyoomi has spent years hopelessly pining after him, the way his eyes follow him from across the room, and the way he roams Kiyoomi’s every waking thought. He doesn’t need to know the desperation Kiyoomi feels when he lies awake at night, imagining the feeling of rough setter hands caressing his cheeks.  
Kiyoomi bounds down the stairs at the sound of the doorbell, steps embarrassingly fast-paced. His heart is hammering away in his chest. He straightens his clothes before opening the door as casually as he can manage.  
Atsumu looks up at Kiyoomi, amber eyes shining. “Took ya long enough.”  
“Be glad I came at all.” As if he would ever leave Atsumu waiting. As if it were in his power.  
Atsumu strides forward to meet Kiyoomi halfway, jabbing a sharp finger into his chest as he speaks, accentuating his words. “You asked me for help. Would it kill ya to show a little gratitude? I’m doin’ this outta the goodness of my heart.”  
Kiyoomi doesn’t deem that worthy of a response, turning to head up the stairs to his room, Atsumu in tow.  
They sit cross legged on the soft carpet, eyeing each other hesitantly. Atsumu pretends to be completely at ease, but Kiyoomi sees it in his eyes, the nerves bubbling just below the surface. They have known each other too long for Atsumu to successfully conceal anything from him. He wonders if the reverse is true as well.  
“Now what?”  
“Now, you kiss me.” Atsumu sits with his hands on his knees, his smile warm and inviting. He looks almost as sweet as Kiyoomi thinks he’ll taste.  
Kiyoomi crawls forward to bridge the gap between them, jacket sleeves pulled over his hands as he leans forward. He braces himself with one hand on Atsumu’s thigh, and brings the other to rest on his cheek, slowly pulling him in. He leans in and…. Atsumu yelps in pain, their foreheads colliding spectacularly before their lips ever make contact.  
Atsumu rubs his sore forehead, red at the point of impact. “Okay, okay, new plan, ‘cause I think I might suffer permanent damage if you brain me like that again. I’m gonna kiss you.”  
Before Kiyoomi even has time to really let the embarrassment sink in, Atsumu is on him. He has one hand on Kiyoomi’s hip, the other tangled in the black curls at the nape of his neck. His lips are warm and gentle, guiding Kiyoomi through the movements, holding him in place so all he can think about is the sweet nectar on his tongue spilling from Atsumu’s stupid mouth. He chases it, overeager and desperate, clutching at Atsumu by his shirt collar.  
Less teeth, easy killer, Atsumu breathes against his lips, and Kiyoomi does his best to comply. He slows his pace to match Atsumu, trying to memorize the way this feels so he can hold every second of it in his mind forever.  
It’s easy when you’re kissing this way to pretend you can have it forever. It’s easy to get lost in the feeling, easy to forget this is just your friend and this is just a personal favor he is doing you. Everything about him is so real and so close, Kiyoomi never wants to let go.  
One wrong move, maybe a slip of Atsumu’s hand or a shift of Kiyoomi’s hips, sends them tumbling backwards, Atsumu laid out on Kiyoomi’s chest, legs in a tangle. Atsumu chuckles to himself, pulling himself up to rest his weight on his elbows, hovering over Kiyoomi.  
Atsumu looks down at Kiyoomi with something like longing, the backlighting from the overhead light a halo around his brassy locks. “Whoever yer practicin’ for better realize how lucky they are. You’re a fast learner Omi-kun.” There’s a hint of resignation in his tone.  
It’s in the set of his jaw and the dull sparkle of his eyes, Kiyoomi sees it. Hope. The hope that Kiyoomi is not alone is these feelings. He could just say the words, let them roll off his tongue and lay his true thoughts bare between them. He decides on the coward’s way out. “It could be you again, if you want.”  
“You mean like… now?”  
Kiyoomi averts his gaze. “Any time you feel like it, I guess.”  
Atsumu freezes, his expression going blank. Kiyoomi can practically see the wheels turning in his head, processing the words he’d just said, before he laughs, loud and full. “Omi-kun,” he shouts, gasping for air, “that was the lamest confession ever!”  
“It was,” Kiyoomi agrees. “Do you accept?”  
“Hmm…” Atsumu pretends to be deep in thought, tapping a finger against his chin. “I could probably be persuaded.” His grins turns devilish and teasing. “Why don’tcha convince me?”  
There, on the floor of his childhood bedroom, where he spent all of his time with a boy he would come to love in less than ten years time, Kiyoomi has the fleeting thought that he could love him for ten more, maybe even double that. As you grow up, you learn to let go of childish things, but parts of yourself remain, growing with you and becoming more refined.  
Atsumu is a part that will always remain.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter @OMIONLYFANS


End file.
